


The Rolls-Royce of Women

by aberm



Category: Designing Women
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, I’m alone on this hill but damnit they should at least have one fic okay, the singles cruise episode changed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aberm/pseuds/aberm
Summary: After the impromptu singles cruise, Suzanne sees Mary Jo in...an insanely different light. Mary Jo may be seeing that same light.(Mary Jo/Suzanne)
Relationships: Mary Jo Shively/Suzanne Sugarbaker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been binging this show for a month now, and for most of the time (since season 2) I’ve been low key shipping Suzanne with Mary Jo. It’s the dynamic okay! They have that dynamic where they have recently confessed feelings for each other that they’ve been harboring secretly for a while, so they’re in their newly, first non-hetero relationship. They’re messy and clueless and so in love it hurts. 
> 
> Julia, Charlene and even Anthony support them quietly from the sidelines, trying their absolute best not to interfere (especially Charlene). 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this small start! I’m very slow to update, so if you get hooked, I immediately apologize.

It completely baffles Suzanne. 

She’s never felt this way in her life...if she doesn’t count that time in her teens when she grew heinously jealous over the close companionship of Junior Wilbur Wilcot and her very good friend Stephanie Hunt, first believing she was infatuated with Wilbur herself, but later coming to the shocking realization that she never really felt true butterflies around Wilbur when she asked him to eat ice cream with her after school; she got them when he left the comfortable swivel seat of the ice cream parlor and Stephanie occupied the seat instead. She figured it out, and how she wasn’t jealous of Stephanie because she was going with Wilbur; no, she was jealous of Wilbur because he was going with Stephanie. And she cherished her time with Stephanie, while not realizing the extent of it. She didn’t comprehend the severity of those feelings until _after_ Stephanie moved away and left Suzanne in the rural dust, unintentionally broken-hearted. 

The pageant queen never fully talked out that experience in her adolescent days or anytime after, but Julia always held it in the back of her mind. In fact, Julia held a lot of note-worthy instances involving her baby sister and a girl. The older Sugarbaker had, and still has, plenty of inclination to reason that Suzanne just has more love to give than she previously presumed and remains presuming. However, Suzanne typically isn’t really the type to accept any social shortcomings—especially from herself. 

So, Suzanne is baffled. Sorely baffled and completely dumbfounded. And clueless. Because what can she do about this horrifying truth now? That she has to acknowledge the honest nature of her feelings? Of her emotions? Of her...infatuation? 

The lucky staple of those unwanted, grating affections walks briskly into the wide living room space of Julia Sugarbaker’s, hair tussled from a combination of strong Atlanta winds and battling her children all the way to public school, arms full of notebooks and binders and blueprints, and a snappy comment on whatever happened to grab her attention all morning hanging off of her red lips. Actually, Suzanne pays a little closer attention and it’s nude lips today. It suits her, in a naturally pretty sort of way, Suzanne thinks. 

And because she thinks, Suzanne is too distracted to say a hello or some form of greeting, but Mary Jo already forgets about it before immediately turning the conversation onto the impossible Gary Sleevemore and his outrageous requests. Mary Jo shoots off into one of her many client-related tirades, if only just to blow off some steam and relieve some stress the project gives her. Charlene listens intently as always, chiming in with a relevant question or making a tasteless joke that allows the redhead to laugh a little. Suzanne watches her as she laughs and continues watching as the designer slips back into a tired reserved expression, eyes too heavy to seem alert, and making sleepy remarks to whatever Charlene’s now talking about, the blonde having already taken over the discussion and into an entirely new topic. 

If Suzanne wasn’t quite listening then, she’s certainly not listening now. She fishes around in her new Birkin bag for her trusty nail file and spends the next several minutes filing her nails, pretending not to appear as if she’s glancing up and towards the direction of Mary Jo’s busy desk every few moments. 

Finally, Julia descends the stairs and greets Mary Jo, whom she hasn’t seen yet all morning. 

“Julia, can _you_ explain to me why we’re abandoning our perfectly good, perfectly decent, perfectly sensible taste, for this...clown fiesta circus?” 

Julia rolls her sparkly eyes in good nature before responding. “What is Mr. Sleevemore requesting now, Mary Jo?” It’s amusing to her, really, how creative Mary Jo can be when questioning the preference veracity of their occasional eccentric clientele. 

“Oh, God, what isn’t that ringleader requesting?” Mary Jo caresses her forehead in pure exasperation before listing off Mr. Sleevemore’s desires. “For one, a child size carousel.” 

Charlene looks up from her paperwork. “That doesn’t sound so crazy. That sounds kinda neat. You know, if his kids wanted—“ 

“He has no kids, Charlene.” 

“Well, if his nieces or nephews—“ 

“He’s an only child. Not married. Believe me, Charlene, I’ve had to sit and converse with this man for hours. He’s told me his life story. This man has no children in his life whatsoever.” 

Charlene, for a moment, is silent. 

“Maybe he has a thing for amusement park rides?” She suggest weakly, having tried and failed to come up with a decent way to relieve this mans crumbling image within Sugarbaker’s. 

“This guy wants a carousel because he’s a pedophile,” Suzanne eventually cuts in, nonchalantly inspecting her filed nails and softly blowing away nail debris. 

“I wouldn’t go that far, Suzanne.” Mary Jo frowns at her remark. 

“You _said_ he wanted a circus. He’s not married, an only child. He’s a pedophile wanting to lure in children, and what better way than with a circus?” 

The three pause in wonder—and uneasiness—at how Suzanne can even jump to that far of a conclusion. 

“Well, just forget I even said anything.” Mary Jo says, concluding the discussion before it went any further south than they already are. 

The younger brunette looks at the redhead in slight dismay, a bit worried she might have made her uncomfortable with her latest assertion. Which, surprises herself. Usually, she wouldn’t care about it. She wouldn’t give it another thought—making her friends and sister bothered by whatever outrageous thing she might say. But now it’s different. Now she does care. 

She fumbles a moment to try and rehash her thoughts. 

“I mean, I-I don’t actually believe that,” her breath mildly hitches as Mary Jo looks up from her own work at the sound of Suzanne’s stuttering backtrack, eyes clear and interested in whatever this bumbling fool had to say. And wow, she really looks interested, if Suzanne does say so herself. “I just, I don’t know, wanted to add a possible reasoning as to why he wants a circ- I mean, carousel.” A quiet sigh of relief when Mary Jo actually nods in understanding. “What else did he request, anyway?” 

Suzanne never does this either. Asking furthering questions about weird clients or anything about the girls individual stories. If it doesn’t necessarily pertain to her, she doesn’t care. Except now, when it pertains to Mary Jo. 

So, the designer passionately rattles off again, mainly to and for Suzanne’s listening ears. Eager ears, too. 

And Julia and Charlene glance at each other for the umpteenth time that week, in regards to Suzanne and Mary Jo, silently pondering just what the hell has changed here between them. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I updated in a reasonable amount of time! So, this story kinda has some plot now, I guess. I sort of intended this to be a small two shot or something, but a three shot is just as fine, too! Enjoy this silly mess!

Mary Jo can stubbornly pinpoint the exact moment her feelings changed. 

And for Suzanne, of all people. 

She realized a lot of matters on their accidental singles cruise, thanks to a single jackass who thought he could win over the affections of the redhead by grossly putting down one of her colleagues and—dare she say—friends. A friend whom she’s no longer necessarily overlooking, but actually scrutinizing in an inquisitive way. In an interested way... _very_ interested. 

Of course Mary Jo has always recognized and acknowledged just how beautiful Suzanne is; but now it’s much deeper than just simple recognization. She actually appreciates her beauty. She praises it. She likes it. She _likes_ her. 

Mary Jo pauses in the middle of her Sleevemore rant and just looks at Suzanne. 

She’s sitting there expectantly, shining blue eyes glued to her own melted chocolate ones, comfortable silence filling the space between them for the first time since Suzanne does love to hear herself speak, but she’s letting Mary Jo do all of the speaking right now, surprisingly. Astonishingly. What’s even more astonishing is the fact that Mary Jo can notice the slightest tint of roses forming like cherries on Suzanne’s powdered cheeks. 

Is that...is she...blushing? 

Mary Jo is about to lean further over her messy desk and truly cave by saying something dangerously enamoring, when Anthony bursts through the front door, accidentally startling the ladies in the process. 

“I apologize for my abrasive entrance, but Mary Jo, I need to talk to you,” Anthony nods his head towards the storage room, indicating the room for quick privacy. He settles into a hurried stride to reach it. Mary Jo wordlessly stands in trepidation and follows after him, not realizing she’s leaving a subtly-pouting Suzanne behind. 

“What’s wrong, Suzanne?” Charlene inquires (a bit knowingly), shuffling papers around on her own desk while glancing up at Suzanne every other second after having noticed the wounded look on her usually elegant face. 

Suzanne huffs a steam of hot air before brusquely replying, “Everything.” 

With that, the beauty queen makes an unintentional show of gathering up her new Birkin bag, and her new faux fur coat, and slamming the door shut on her way out. She neglected to say goodbye or even mention where she was going. 

Charlene and Julia remain in stillness, as if waiting for the coast to really be clear. The blonde steadily casts her eyes over from the front door, to the closed door of the storage room. After the initial moments of Suzanne’s abrupt departure passes, Charlene wastes no more time in pushing her chair back in urgency and scampering the very short distance towards Julia’s desk. She takes up occupancy next to Julia’s sitting frame and leans over to plop her elbows on top of her neat desk and rests her chin on her palms. She looks at the brunette with a cheeky smile. 

“Did you see ‘em today?! They practically couldn’t keep their ogling eyes off of each other!” She recounts giddily in a poor-attempted whisper. 

The eldest Sugarbaker automatically shushes her, eyes darting to the door separating the two of them from a conversating Anthony and Mary Jo. A beat, and then she’s failing miserably at stifling a tiny giggle. Charlene giggles with her, delightfully surprised at Julia’s sudden giddiness to this infeasible banter. 

“Keep your voice down,” Julia properly whispers, sliding her hand over Charlene’s hunched form, mutely telling her to kneel so that from the storage room, she’s hidden from view. Julia swivels her chair, making it—and herself—face the wall next to the front door. “And correct me if I am amiss in this notion, but I vastly remember sentencing us _both_ to witnessing _without_ interference.” 

“But all I asked was—“ 

“That _includes_ , asking questions such as, ‘what’s wrong’.” 

“Well, how was I suppose to know? You offered a lot of hypothetical questions that are off-limits, but you never said—“ 

“I should rephrase, then. Do not speak to Suzanne or Mary Jo, lest they come to figure out what we already know.” 

“Julia!” 

“Alright. Speak, and tread, carefully.” 

“...I can do that. But also, why can’t we just, you know, give them a little push?” 

Julia doesn’t hesitate. “No.” She smiles at the younger woman, then returns her focus onto her actual work. 

Meanwhile, in the very storage room, Mary Jo and Anthony sit respectively in chairs, waiting for their initial discussion to fully sink in. 

Anthony checks his wristwatch. 

“I have to leave in a few minutes, but I just wanted to forewarn you.” 

“Thank you, Anthony,” Mary Jo says nearly absentmindedly, staring vaguely toward the bleak walls. 

Anthony purses his lips at the sight of the short redhead. He swims around in his mind for something helpful to say, anything to lessen the potential blow that may be coming her way. 

“Listen, I know I may not...know Suzanne as much as you do, but, from what I _do_ know about Suzanne, she’s most likely not going to make an enormous fuss about this.” 

Mary Jo shakes her head slowly. “I just can’t believe that man believed I was completely serious. I _thought_ we were having a playful repartee, not I actually, honestly, really wanting to send that arrangement to _Suzanne_!” She lowers her voice into a harsh murmur for those last few words, but it still makes Anthony flinch at the sound of her tone. She finally looks at him, worry etched in her brows, “Anthony, what am I going to say when she inevitably pulls up, beats down the door to my house and furiously demands that I...explain?” 

The man sighs and returns her gaze with a semblance of pity. Perhaps he can come up with something—it’ll have to be something ridiculous as this is a ridiculous situation. He knows he shouldn’t be getting anywhere near involved, but he already did Mary Jo the favor of telling her he found the bouquet of beautiful flowers waiting for Suzanne back at her mansion when he went over to feed Noelle (Suzanne has been asking that a lot of Anthony recently, since the brunette hasn’t developed a true sense of responsibility for a living pet just yet). So, why not help her explain it to Suzanne, that it’s not at all what Mary Jo intended, not how she truly feels, no matter how sincere and romantic that card attached to the flowers sounded when read. Why not? It’s none of Anthony’s business as to the true context and nature of Mary Jo’s feelings for the other woman, although he wouldn’t disagree if someone else pointed out how differently they act, specifically around each other. Ever since that mysterious cruise the ladies took a couple of weeks ago. 

He briefly wonders if Julia and Charlene have noticed this shift, too... 

The thought flees for now as Mary Jo abandons her seat in favor of pacing anxiously around the small room. 

“Okay...okay...” she mutters, gears turning and working around in her head. “First of all, Anthony, will you help me? I completely and wholly respect it and you if you would rather not participate in the catastrophic shit-show that is about to boil over in a matter of 24 hours, but I need to hear you say that before I fully realize this crazy idea currently forming inside of my head,” Mary Jo waits for Anthony’s response, and continues on with utter relief when he pensively nods in agreement to helping, “okay! Second of all, I really want to have another nice chat with Mr. Can’t-Detect-Sarcasm-So-I’ll-Go-Ahead-And-Send-This-Joke-Flower-Arrangement-To-Suzanne-Sugarbaker-Express! Because I need a word or two with him.” 

Mary Jo stomps out of the storage room with sheer purpose, giving him the cue to follow after her. He does, with a reasonable amount of concern and reluctance. He also takes Mary Jo’s cue of ignoring the curious gazes of Julia and Charlene, watching them as they leave Suagrbaker’s property. 

They slide into Mary Jo’s car, and with the red hotted redhead gripping the stirring wheel, they speed off toward the direction of Sylvester’s Flower Co. 


	3. Chapter 3

The drive is not a long one, thankfully, with the way Mary Jo was stepping on the gas pedal and recklessly switching lanes and mouthing off to every other car they passed, Anthony is truly _thankful_ they reached the flower shop before disaster can greet them. 

“You know, Mary Jo, I did mention earlier that I needed to be...literally anywhere else, but if you’re going to continue to drive like Mad Max on Thunder Road, then I might as well bolt myself into this cushioned seat of your Station Wagon, since I couldn’t possibly want to be literally anywhere else than with you and your furious hot wheels,” The man says in his true nervous sarcastic form. 

Mary Jo grunts in reply, not necessarily paying much attention to his frenzied state as she pushes the car door closed with all of the might she came prepared with. 

The two enter the very familiar flower shop, both satisfied to find it empty of any costumers. Mary Jo marches right up to the counter and waits impatiently for Mr. Sylvester, the owner and now unfortunate target of Mary Jo’s rage, to turn around from his plants and regard her. He does and doesn’t immediately notice the brown eyes narrowing at him in anguish. 

“Miss Shively! A surprise, truly! We typically don’t see you back here so soon after an order,” he begins to dwindle his usual chipper attitude after seeing the not-so happy look on Mary Jo’s scowling face. “Um, not that we’re not glad to see you! What do ya need?” 

“I need your head on a waving stick, Sylvester,” she bites out. 

Anthony laughs uneasily beside her and places a soothing hand on her shoulder. “What she means is, we’d like a moment of your time to address a certain matter that’s been brought to her attention,” Anthony attempts to soften the encounter as much as possible, with little help from his petite companion, of course. 

“ _And_ to experiment with your skull defying gravity amongst the winds of Georgia!” 

“It’s okay Mary Jo, calm down,” he looks sheepishly at Mr. Sylvester, “she forgot to take her medicine this morning, so forgive her for she knows not what she threatens.” 

The man eyes the two of them cautiously. “Right... so what’s this really about, then?” 

“You did something incredibly foolish, let me just start off with that,” Mary Jo says much more coolly, at last letting up some of that rage. “Remember two afternoons ago? When we were last here?” 

“Yes I do, the two of us were having a pretty good laugh!” 

“Yes! Do you remember what about?” 

He’s thoughtful for a moment, then nods his answer and smiles. Mary Jo feigns a chuckle to ease Mr. Sylvester a little more, distracting him as she casually leans over the counter closer to him. Then, her face darkens. She snatches Mr. Sylvester’s tie and grips it in her tiny fist. As she tugs lightly on it, she looks deeply into his shaky eyes and blows steam from her nose like an angry bull. 

“Good, it’s good that you remember. Do you also remember the mood and tone we were using that day? Specifically the tone _I_ was using?” 

Now he mirrored the nerves of Don Knotts ala The Ghost of Mr. Chicken. “I-I-I can’t really say I do... I mean-I thought we were both laughing and having... a laugh! That’s all.” 

“Well, we certainly were. That didn’t mean, however, that we were being _serious_.” 

“...oh.” 

“Yeah,” she says and lets go of his tie and he immediately recoils from her space. “Oh.” 

Mr. Sylvester straightens his tie and smooths over the wrinkles of his white button up. “I’m guessing you mean you did not really want me to send those arrangements to Miss Sugarbaker?” 

The redhead sighs. “Yes, Mr. Sylvester. I really did not want you to send those flowers. But you did, and I can’t believe you did, but it’s done.” 

“Did she see them?” 

“Not as far as I know,” Mary Jo looks to Anthony. “She wasn’t in the living room when we stormed out, was she?” 

“Not that I can recall. Julia and Charlene were most definitely still there, I can almost picture their boring, beady eyes drilling a hole into the back of our necks on our way out of the door exactly.” The taller man shakes his head disapprovingly. 

“Great!” The shop owner says. “If she hasn’t gotten to ‘em yet, all y’all have to do is get to ‘em before she does!” 

...

Suzanne dumps the excess contents of her new Birkin bag onto the porch of her mansion and rifles through the pile for her house keys. Meanwhile, her mind repeats the last several thoughts she’s conjured up the instant she left Julia’s house. Now, after wandering around the shops for the better hour, she’s home and still as grumpy as ever. 

_Stupid Charlene and her stupid concern._

__

__

Stupid Anthony and his stupid interruptions. 

Stupid Julia and her stupid knowing looks. 

_Stupid Mary Jo and her... stupid, stupid sweet smile..._

The brunette hesitates to seize her keys from the top of the pile in favor of thinking about that very offending smile that Mary Jo likes to so easily give her. But before she can weaken at the knees thinking about it, a sudden car honk rouses her from her fantasy. 

She snaps her head to the side just in time to watch as Mary Jo’s Station Wagon grinds to a halt in her drive way. The petite woman jumps out of the car and rushes up the walkway to where Suzanne now stands clutching her house keys. She looks over Mary Jo’s shoulder to find Anthony trailing behind. She’s a bit out of breath and tries to catch it while Suzanne waits expectantly for her to explain herself. 

“Hiya, Suzanne,” Mary Jo wheezes a little more and tries her best to muster the most relaxed, casual smile. She takes in the puzzled yet ravishing appearance of the taller woman, that a warning bite to her bottom lip doesn’t stop her from blurting out another corny line. It’s like she can’t resist it around her anymore. “Come around here often?” 

The brunette raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Me? Why, you know just as well how often I ‘come around here’. It’s my house!” 

“That’s right! And a gorgeous house, if I may say so.” 

Suzanne looks at her suspiciously. “You may...but I already knew that,” she shakes her head as if to shake off the pure confusion. “what’s this all about?” 

“Huh? What’s this all about?” Mary Jo is pillaging through straws right now in order to stall as long as possible, but it’s difficult to stall a tenacious and cutthroat woman like Suzanne Sugarbaker. It _really_ must run in the family... 

Said woman clears her throat overbearingly, loudly and in not so many words telling her to expand on her last sentence. She does. 

“Mr. And Mrs. Vanderbilt. You remember them, yes?” 

“Sure. What about them?” 

“And you remember Mr. Sylvester?” 

“Who? Unless you’re speaking of Mr. Sylvester Stallone.” 

“Definitely not...that Sylvester. No, our Sylvester, from the flower shop.” 

Suzanne scrunches her mouth to the side in a show of pondering. 

“I believe so.”

“Good! Well, Mr. Sylvester called the house and told me that something went a tinsy bit awry with the Vanderbilt shipment.” 

The brunette nods to acknowledge what she said. 

“And, apparently, someone—not Sylvester, mind you—accidentally sent one arrangement...here. Instead of to the Vanderbilts. Just one though—not the whole shipment. That would be horrendous.” 

Suzanne blinks. “They sent one here?” 

“Yup! Right in there! You see, Anthony saw the arrangement when he was here earlier, and brought it in, not realizing. Oh, Anthony.” Mary Jo feigns a laugh at the delivery man’s expense. He reacts with an innocent grin for Suzanne, just to maintain the charades. 

“So, if you don’t mind, we can pop right in there, grab the flowers, and skedaddle on out, you won’t even know it was there in the first place,” The shorter woman slyly ushers the taller woman into quickly unlocking her front door and gaining entrance to the mansion. 

As the three rally into the house resembling a loose image of a conga line, Mary Jo immediately points out the gorgeous arrangement sitting comfortably on the marble table next to the satin couch. “There! Isn’t it a nice one, too? Boy, the Vanderbilts will surely love this in their master bedroom.” She walks swiftly towards the flowers, not noticing Suzanne on her heels. 

Mary Jo gathers the bouquet into her arms, just as Suzanne pops up from behind her to inspect it, which inevitably startles the petite woman. 

“These?” 

“Uh, yes?” 

“I thought you said they were suppose to be going to the Vanderbilts,” Suzanne brings up, just now finding Mary Jo in the beginnings of a sweating panic. 

“What do you mean?” She asks, now having gone very meek. 

“The Vanderbilts? They specifically asked for Saffron Crocus,” Suzanne explains. “and these are not that. These are roses. They did not want roses, and I know that because that Jackie-O wannabe went on and on about how much she believes roses are highly overrated, while I defended those things because I just loved coming home to them whenever one of my ex-husbands thought a gift of that can win him back into our bed—which they never did, ha.” Suzanne felt the hubris need to add that petty part at the end, but it honestly was like the cherry on top of the Mary Jo Shit-Show Sundae Special. 

“So,” Suzanne doesn’t hide the fact that she looks Mary Jo up and down from head to toe, then continues to shred the poor woman’s confidence. “How is it that these were _accidentally_ shipped here, when they weren’t suppose to be going to them in the first place? Another possible order was mixed up, too?” Now she’s just teasing at this point, with the way her voice dips and her eyes shine on Mary Jo. 

“Now, wait a—“

“And won’t you look-a here,” the raven haired woman plucked a tiny white card from the corner pocket of the arrangement while Mary Jo was still holding it. “There’s a card attached!” 

“Suzanne.” The designer stands still, with shocked eyes and a serious tone. “Don’t.” She stepped closer to Suzanne, only for the other woman to step back herself, and continues to do so to maintain distance from Mary Jo’s twitching sticky fingers. 

Before a real chase can develop, Suzanne got to a point in the note that made her pause. She skims the rest of the beautiful writing and turns to face Mary Jo, who shamefully hid behind the bouquet of flowers. 

After a moment settles without a word from either of them, Mary Jo looks Suzanne back in the eyes.

“It’s not what you think! Really! You see, Sylvester—that’s what I call him, Sylvester, instead of, you know, Mr. Sylvester—we had a laugh! And we were talking about pranks and practical jokes, and somehow we got to laughing at something I say! Something I say about you and pranking you, and how it would be hysterical to send a joke gift of roses to you with a romantic card attached...” but she trailed off for she noticed the warm, affectionate gaze of the taller woman. 

“None of this is making any sense, huh?”

“These last couple of weeks haven’t been making any sense...” 

“You, too?” The redhead offers a tiny smile. 

“Yeah.” Suzanne replies, suddenly very shy. 

They continue to look at each other fondly, and honestly, a little heated. But bedroom eyes can be saved for later, as Mary Jo has an urgent question to pose.

“Well,” she breaks the connection for a brief moment. “How did you know about the Saffron Crocus? I thought you never really listened at those client meetings?” 

Suzanne giggles girlishly before answering truthfully. “I’ve been paying closer attention than usual recently...more specifically to you. Since...you know.” 

“Oh...” Mary Jo looks at the plants in her arms. Then extends them towards the woman before her. “Then have them. From...your’s truly.” 

“Thank you, your’s truly.” Suzanne says softly, never before heard in Mary Jo’s brimming ears. 

At this point, Anthony’s taken his cue to exit the mansion and wait for Mary Jo in the car. He has a lot to think about and would rather mull over this sudden fresh revelation alone. 

_Julia and Charlene have got to hear about this!_

...

The following weeks are true bliss. 

Well, as far as it can be for a couple like Suzanne Sugarbaker and Mary Jo Shively. 

The said couple finally make their notable sitcom entrance into the Sugarbaker’s decorating firm, Mary Jo trudging in first, followed by a persistent Suzanne chattering to her hearts desire. 

“Wouldn’t that be absolutely divine, Mary Jo?” The brunette takes a seat on her usual spot on the couch while she waits for Mary Jo’s response. 

“Yes, honey, a short trip to Milan would be divine,” she says, half amused and half ambivalent to the idea of actually taking a vacation to Italy out of the clear blue. 

Dating a rich woman is, frankly, a lot of fun. And still a lot of new stress. 

But she turns her head to look at the delighted, self assured smile on Suzanne’s face, already undoubtably planning every minuscule detail of their hypothetical trip in that big-haired head of hers, and she knows that it’s worth it. The cruise was worth it, the jackass flirting his way into her bed was worth it, and the keen stares of Julia, Charlene and Anthony are pretty worth it, too. 

Until Charlene starts making childish smooching noises and singing K-I-S-S-I-N-G, then it’s Mary Jo’s prerogative to threaten her with a real knuckle sandwich later. 

But instead, she lets her body fall into the empty spot next to her girlfriend and plants a sweet kiss on her blush colored cheek. She looks at Charlene, sitting at her cluttered desk as usual. 

“Don’t speak to me, or my Rolls-Royce ever again.” 

They all laugh, quite enjoying this new normalcy, however unconventional it seemingly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I incorporated a meme at the end WHATEVER!! Hope you enjoyed anyways! And stan YOUR local sapphic southern women <3

**Author's Note:**

> Meanwhile, Julia and Charlene have the opposite dynamic where they’ve been married to each other for so long, they’re very distinguished in their relationship and very strong and very healthy. They know each other so well. They fondly watch Mary Jo and Suzanne like they’re babies fumbling their way through the jungle of Love. So sweet.


End file.
